His Butler, Under the Sun
by VergofTowels
Summary: An introspective piece concerning Sebastian and how his time within the Phantomhive household changes him. Implied Sebastian/Ciel. May contain spoilers.


Hallo! :) This is just a little thing I wrote when I was bored. My friend prompted me to write a songfic, so I used "Interlude I: Dei Gratia" by Kamelot. It's not your typical wailing songfic. I hope. ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji!

Note: There's a song translation after the ficlet.

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_Sub sole nihil novi est_

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The demon peered down at the small body before him, his deep red eyes taking in the thin limbs, the battered back. The boy lay among the corpses of men and women, covered in their blood. It was on his face, under his nails. It was in his mouth. His bared teeth were covered in it.

"I find your sacrifice acceptable," said the demon, and he smirked. "Would you like to make a deal?"

The boy was young, but not, it seemed, dull. He looked up with sapphire eyes that did not flinch, though his mouth tightened at the corners. He was not afraid. Not after everything else.

"What do I call you?"

The demon approved. "You may call me whatever you like, but my name is _Michaelis_."

"Sebastian."

"Very well then," said Sebastian, and he touched the boy's face with a claw. He made the deal, as he had countless times before. Took an eye, and was promised a soul. He bound himself tightly with the details of the contract until he was nothing but one hell of a butler, his fate in the hands of his new master.

His two-hundred-and-fifty-sixth master.

**---**

_Ad astra per aspera_

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Sebastian walked through the garden calmly, surveying the dying plants indifferently. It was snowing out, covering the ground in a blanket of wet and white. It would have chilled him, had he been human.

The young master was asleep inside, recovering from a cold. He had stoked the fire to make the boy as comfortable as possible before leaving. Now he was retrieving firewood to replace the extra he'd used. The woods were bleak and black ahead.

Suddenly, a loud crunching noise could be heard, and Sebastian turned impassively to investigate. A deer? Something bigger? He was more than a match for any of the wildlife on the grounds. But it was simply the gardener, a large wooly hat pulled down over his cropped hair. He was almost out of breath, having run from the manor.

"Mr. Sebastian!" he panted, waving a hand in a redundant attempt to catch his attention.

Sebastian put on the friendly expression he had always used when talking to the staff, of his current or any master. It did not reach his eyes. "Yes, Finnian?"

"You forgot…your coat!" The young man had slowed and now came to a stop, his hands resting on his knees. A flush of exertion darkened his paper-white skin, still unused to the sun.

"What?" Sebastian blinked.

"Yes! You'll catch…your death…out here. Whew!" And the boy lobbed Sebastian's leather cloak at him with a force that would have hurt anyone else.

Sebastian accepted it in silence, bemused. Then he smiled.

"Thank you."

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_Quaerite prime regnum dei_

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Ciel said to him once that there must be angels, if demons existed. Sebastian had laughed.

He said "I am the one that came to you."

And his young master had fallen still, his eyes, as ever, on his ring.

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_Ante bellum memento mori_

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Sometimes when his master slept, Sebastian would touch his face to feel how soft the skin was. He dreamed, when he indulged himself in sleep, of that skin running red again with the blood of Ciel's enemies. As it had on the night of their meeting.

And sometimes, when his master slept, Sebastian would light a candle and study the way the light played off of his master's youthful features. He imagined his hands drawing across Ciel's body like the candlelight, just as fleeting. Just as gentle.

How he would caress his young master, until the boy was putty in his hands! He longed to forget the contract that placed him forever below, forever in service to this… boy.

But sometimes, when his master slept, Sebastian would think about time. The child curled beneath the coverlet would someday, perhaps, become a man. Someday, perhaps, grow old.

Sebastian thought of death. And he grew cold.

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_Nothing new under the sun_

_To the stars through the thorns_

_First seek the kingdom of God_

_Before war, remember death_

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